Unattractive
by Auphora66
Summary: Discontinued. See profile for rewrite, titled Color and All. Paul has the worst control out of the pack. That control gets put to the test when he imprints on a girl that wants to give him hell. PaulxOC.
1. Punch her hard

**Okay, this is my third fanfiction. I have a lot of ideas, and this particular one was haunting me in my daydreams. I hope you enjoy it!! -Kate (Auphora66)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Twilight series.**

**-Paul-**

"God, can't you two get a room or something?" I asked for the billionth time this week, setting the x-box controller down. I had already broken one two weeks ago; I didn't want to risk another.

"If you don't like it, don't look." Jared replied, his hand still on Kim's lower back. Kim was flushed, embarrassed at my presence.

"I was here first." I stood firm, crossing my arms over my chest.

"So? There's two of us and one of you. Majority rules, man."

"Come _on_, Jared. We've been planning this tournament for three days."

"Wait, so which is it? Go get a room with Kim or go play Halo3 with you?" Jared smirked, obviously just messing with me.

My frame began to shake; he was getting annoying. "Halo3 with me, Kim can watch."

"Hmm…" Jared tapped his finger on his chin, thinking. "Later on tonight?" he bargained.

"As in when Kim's curfew starts or after you sneak in and she falls asleep?" I rolled my eyes. Kim's curfew was at 11 pm, after the sneaking in was 1:30 am. I had to know how late I was going to stay up for the stupid tournament. Kim flushed at my question; she stared out the window to avoid making eye contact.

"What do you think?" Jared raised an eyebrow. His choice was only too obvious.

I sighed, feeling like I got cheated, "See you at nearly two in the morning." I knew that it was a waste of time trying to change his mind when it involved Kim. "Later." I said, giving a flick-of-the-fingers wave and left.

The whole imprinting business was a pain. Nothing else really matters besides that person; the "else" part included friends. Friends didn't matter, which majorly sucked. Considering that I was one of those friends. At least Kim wasn't a bitch; that was an incredible plus. It would really suck having to deal with a mean girl all of the time. Kim was actually pretty nice, quiet and shy, but nice. She made me a sandwich once (Jared too obviously). I kicked a rock; sending it meters away. What was I going to do with the rest of my day? I didn't feel much like cliff diving with the rest of the pack…I suppose I'll go home and watch tv. I can only hope that tomorrow will be more eventful.

**-Next Day-**

**-Alyssa-**

"Aly!" a voice screamed from the other room. I jumped up in alarm; effectively bumping into the table, making my cereal crash to the floor. I would have been irritated by it, but I was too busy running into the living room.

"What is it Michael?" I asked, nearly tripping over my own feet. I caught myself by clinging to the wall. I felt relieved to find Michael standing in the middle of the room, seemingly unharmed.

Michael turned to look at me, a pout on his face, "I can't find the remote."

"You're ten years old, you can find it yourself." I growled, feeling as if my haste had all been a waste. Irritation bubbled up inside my chest.

"C'mon Alyssa, please?"

"I have to get ready for school." I said curtly.

"You're late anyways; Dad forgot to change the clocks to this time zone."

"What?!" I screeched. "You knew that and you never _told_ me?" I saw the corner of Michael's mouth twitch as he tried not to smile. "You little brat!" I chased him around the room and throughout the first level of the house. He was fast from being in sports. I stopped chasing him after a good minute; any longer and I was sure to trip on something. I didn't have my contacts in.

"What's with all of the noise?" a tired Dad asked, from the top of the stairs. He was still in his pajamas; his dark brown hair was messy and he looked like he was developing bags under his brown eyes from lack of sleep.

"Michael conveniently forgot to remind us that the clocks are wrong," I explained, crossing my arms.

"Oh, shoot! That means you're late to school!" he exclaimed, awake now.

I sighed, "I'm not exactly ready. Don't worry about it, Dad; go ahead and take a shower."

Dad took in the fact that I was still in my pajamas and nodded. He disappeared around the corner.

I went back into the kitchen and cleaned up the cereal that had fallen. Today was going to suck. I could feel it in my bones. Not only was I going to be the new kid, I was going to be the _late_ new kid.

"Hey, Alyssa?" Michael asked, popping out of nowhere.

I jumped in surprise and then smacked him in the shoulder, "How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

"Do what?" he asked cheekily.

"Pop out of nowhere. I don't have my contacts in; don't freak me out like that."

Michaels face fell a little, "Sorry, I didn't know that you didn't have your contacts in."

"Just don't sneak up on me again, and you'll be forgiven."

"Are you scared of going to a new school?"

Yes, but I wasn't going to show any weakness in front of my little brother. "No, Michael."

"How come?"

He was making lying difficult, I think he knew that. Michael knew me too well. "Because there's nothing to be afraid of. People in small towns are usually nice." It was probably a stereotype; I had no idea whether people in small towns were nice or not. Michael was just lucky that he didn't have to go to school today; there were some registration issues, so he'll be going to school by either a few days or next week.

"Are you afraid that they'll call you names?"

"I'm a person with albinism, Michael. I'm not an alien." I rolled my eyes, going over to the cabinet and pulling out a bowl.

"They might think you are with your red eyes."

"Did you find the remote?" I asked, changing the subject. I set the bowl down on the counter and poured myself some cereal from the box nearby.

"Yep," he answered happily.

"Where was it?" I asked, not really interested. I put the plastic clip of the bag and closed the box up.

"On top of the tv."

I sighed. "You can go away now, Michael. I have to eat breakfast." I moved over to the fridge to get some milk.

"Could you make me toast?"

"You can make it yourself. You're a big ten year old boy, I'm sure you can handle putting a slice of bread into the toaster."

He complained for five minutes but when he found that I wasn't going to budge, he made it himself. I wasn't his servant; it serves him right to get a good reminder of that. I ate my cereal quickly, unable to enjoy it because Michael had taken away so much of my time. Stupid little brother; his questions replayed in my head, making me wonder about what was to be. My chest felt tight; what if my new classmates didn't like me? La Push was a small town, everybody knew everybody. It would be hard to make friends with the cliques already made. I sighed. If they don't like me then there is nothing I can do about it. I have plenty of friends back home; as soon as Dad gets the internet going, I'll be able to talk to them. No big deal. I can handle myself. I pushed any doubtful thoughts away.

I went up to my room which was full of unopened boxes, and searched to find my clothes. I finally found them after a nearly ten minutes of searching and pulled on my favorite pair of jeans; they were faded, the bottom of the pant legs were worn down and had a torn look to it, and they fit me just right. I pulled on a plain black t-shirt and a comfortable black hoodie. I went into my bathroom -I was really happy about having one of my own-. I looked into the mirror and frowned. The black of my hoodie and shirt contrasted deeply with the paleness of my skin and hair. I should have known better than to wear dark clothing. My eyes were a crimson red; making me look inhuman. I put in my contacts, wishing that they were colored brown so I could blend in better.

"Alyssa, are you ready to go?" my Dad called from the downstairs.

That meant that he was ready to go and was waiting on me. "Coming!" I called back. I hastily ran a brush through my hair and scrubbed my teeth with minty toothpaste. I dashed through my room, along the hallway, down the stairs, and to the front door where my shoes were.

"I'll be in the car," my dad sad, looking refreshed and ready to take on the day. He shut the front door behind him as he left to go start the car.

""Kay." I replied as I loosened the white strings of my black converse. Why did I choose shoes that were a pain to tie? I slipped on the shoe and pulled the strings tight and tied them. Next shoe; untie, put on, tie back up.

"Hey, Alyssa?" Michael said, just as I was leaving the house.

"What?" I turned to see him in front of me.

"You'll be okay."

I was touched. Really, I would have cried but I was older, so I had to act older. I ruffled his hair, "Go watch some brain-killing tv."

Michael knocked my hand off of his head. Moment over. He smiled at me and then turned around. I closed the front door behind me, hoping that his words would be the truth.

**-Mini time skip-**

I didn't want to go in there. No way. If the secretary had looked at me funny, surely everyone else will. I had forgotten that La Push was an Indian reservation; the citizens were Indian descendants with dark hair and dark skin. I was going to stand out much more than thought I would. I peeked into the classroom through the pane of glass on the door again and debated whether I should just skip entirely. Sadly, the teacher saw me out of the corner of her eye and gestured for me to come in. The teacher looked to be in her twenties and judging from her casual looking clothes, she seemed to be liberal. She had dark hair and dark skin like everyone else. We may just get along. I took a deep breath, turned the door handle and entered the classroom.

The students stared at me as they took in my pale skin, nearly white hair, and red eyes. I looked away from them, to avoid eye contact.

"This is the new student that I told you would be joining us," she reminded the class. "Hello, Alyssa. My name is Miss. Novaku. Why don't you say a few things about yourself?" I liked her name, I thought it was cool; however, I did _not_ want to talk in front of these strangers. I brushed my bangs out of my eyes and attempted to tuck them behind my ear, even though they were too short to stay put.

"Hi." I said sheepishly, turning my gaze onto my new classmates. "I'm Alyssa Winters. I…have pigment problems." The class chuckled, knowing that I was just messing around. I smiled; they were capable of laughing, that was good. "I like watching movies; action, horror, and comedy are the best. Um…does anyone have any questions? I can't think of anything else to say."

A few hands rose into the air, waiting to be called upon. I caught the eye of a boy in the back of the class. He was huge; over six feet tall with rippling muscles that could be seen through the dark fabric of his shirt. He wore torn shorts and a pair of sandals. He had silky cropped black hair and his skin seemed to glow more than anyone else in the class. His eyes were dark pools of black, wide as if he had seen something impossible. He took my breath away and it took me a few seconds to gather my thoughts. I looked away from him, breaking the spell that he had unknowingly put on me and pointed to a girl near the window who had her hand raised.

"Hi, my name is Sandra. I was wondering where you used to live."

"Michigan." I replied.

"Did you used to live on one of the lakes?" she asked, genuinely curious.

I smiled, "Nope. I've visited the lakes to see the sand dunes though."

"We don't have sand dunes, but we have tide pools," a boy behind Sandra informed me.

"Really?" I asked, interested. I had never seen tide pools before.

"Yeah. There's going to be a bonfire this Saturday at the beach, you should come."

I smiled, feeling incredibly relieved that I was being welcomed so warmly. "Thanks, um-?"

"Oh, my name is Ryan."

"Thanks, Ryan. I think I will go, where's the beach?"

Sandra quickly gave me directions. I repeated them in my head three times to make sure that I had them down pat, though they were pretty simple.

"Thanks, Sandra. Does anyone else have any questions?" I ask, making sure to keep my eyes away from the gorgeous guy in the back.

More questions were asked and then Miss. Novaku finally decided that it was time to begin class. She handed me a thick book with "U.S. History" on the cover, and told me what chapter we were working on. I was glad to know that I had already covered the topic back home. Miss. Novaku pointed to an open seat in the back of the classroom. I looked and saw that it was beside the sun god -he was radiant. Sadly, his expression didn't match his aura of the sun; his face was distorted in a scowl. I bit the inside of my cheek. He didn't like me. He didn't want to sit next to a freak. My heart picked up tempo as I walked towards my designated seat; keeping my eyes on the floor. I set my things down on my desk and sat down, keeping my eyes downward. I inhaled deeply, mildly surprised that I had been holding my breath. This was going to be a long class period.

**-Paul- (A/N: I'm backtracking a bit to before Alyssa entered the room)**

"Bored" wasn't a strong enough word to express my current situation. I didn't care about the Civil Rights movement -not that it wasn't important; it's just that I had first heard of Martin Luther King Jr. in kindergarten. There wasn't any real need to review about him. Okay, so now I know he was part of the SCLC (Southern Christian Leadership Conference) -but that knowledge was only important for answering a couple of questions on the upcoming test and nothing else. I finished writing the last sentence of the essay that Miss. Novaku had assigned and let out a sigh when I penciled in the period at the end. _Finally_ I was done.

Over the noise of whispering classmates, I heard footsteps near the door. I looked up and saw a pale face with red eyes in the glass pane. My muscles tensed, readying to defend the humans around me from the bloodsucker that was stupid enough to enter the territory of werewolves. My body began to shake. I clenched my fists and dug them into my abdomen, willing myself not to form. A wolf inside the classroom wouldn't be taken well. Miss. Novaku saw her out of the corner of her eye and motioned for her to come in. Fuck.

Hesitantly, the vampire entered the room; looking like she would rather be anywhere but here, which I found odd. She was in a room full of "food"; wouldn't she want to be here? I then realized that my nose wasn't burning. I couldn't smell any sickeningly sweet scent in the room. How did this vampire manage to hide her strong scent? The classroom went quiet as my peers took her pale features in. She averted her red eyes to avoid eye contact from anyone. I analyzed the creature before the classroom more closely. She wore a black t-shirt beneath a black hoodie, faded jeans, and a pair of black converse. Her fair hair flowed down onto her hoodie, ending at her bust. It was parted at the side; her bangs swept across her forehead, getting into her crimson eyes. Her figure was thin; with some curves. Her pale skin contrasted with the darkness of her clothes, making her look even more inhuman.

It didn't matter if she wasn't human. Whatever she was; she had to be happy. Her happiness was all that mattered. Suddenly, I wanted to protect her from my classmates -people who were sure to make a crude comment about her appearance. More than that, I wanted to hold her and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. I wanted to replace that uncertain expression on her face with a smile.

"This is the new student that I told you would be joining us," Miss. Novaku reminded the class. "Hello, Alyssa. My name is Miss. Novaku. Why don't you say a few things about yourself?" she said quietly to the girl.

Alyssa brushed her bangs away from her eyes. "Hi," she said sheepishly, turning her gaze onto the class. Her voice wasn't low, but it wasn't high. It was in-between, and I was eager to hear more. "I'm Alyssa Winters. I…have pigment problems." The class chuckled. She wasn't a vampire. She was albino. How could I have been so stupid? Relief crashed into me, now that I knew she wasn't going to hurt anyone and cause trouble for me. Alyssa smiled at the sound of my classmates' laughter; it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. "I like watching movies; action, horror, and comedy are the best. Um…does anyone have any questions? I can't think of anything else to say."

A few hands rose into the air, waiting to be called upon. She looked over my peers, and then made eye-contact with me. I realized at that moment that she was my imprint. Her eyes glazed over for a few seconds and then she looked away quickly and pointed to Sandra Carols. This was the worst thing that could have ever happened. Alyssa was in danger; I had the least control out of the entire pack. She had certain death if she were to somehow fall in love with me. Stupid imprinting. In the background of my thoughts, I heard Alyssa say that she was from Michigan and that she used to visit the sand dunes there.

"We don't have sand dunes, but we have tide pools." Ryan Chess informed Alyssa, pulling me out of my thoughts. Jealousy flared up; I didn't want any guy, especially Ryan Chess, talking to her. My frame began to shake; I closed my eyes and told myself mentally to calm down.

"Really?" she asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"Yeah. There's going to be a bonfire this Saturday at the beach, you should come." At Ryan's words, I opened my eyes. Hope dimmed my jealousy; I would get to see her this weekend if she agreed.

Alyssa smiled, "Thanks, um-?"

"Oh, my name is Ryan."

"Thanks, Ryan. I think I will go, where's the beach?" My emotions soared up to cloud nine; the shaking stopped. I would get to see her over the weekend. The corner of my mouth lifted in a smile. Then I remembered that I was a safety hazard. I scowled; I would have to avoid her. Ignore her. Push her away if necessary.

Sandra gave her directions so quickly it was as if Alyssa would change her mind if she didn't tell her fast enough.

"Thanks, Sandra. Does anyone else have any questions?"

More questions were asked and then Miss. Novaku finally decided that it was time to begin class. She handed Alyssa a thick text book then pointed to the only open seat left in the class; the one next to me. I watched as she walked down the aisle; keeping her eyes on the floor, holding her breath. I could hear the rhythm of her heart speed up. She set her stuff down on the desk and took a seat, not glancing at me once. The movement sent a wave of air at me; her scent was a combination of sweet and spicy. I was tempted to lean over and place my nose against her neck and inhale the more concentrated scent, but I wasn't brave (or stupid) enough to do that. This was going to be a long, long second hour class period.

**-Three days later, lunch period- (A/N: It is Thursday now, so the bonfire is in two days, incase you were getting confused about the what day of the week it was.)**

**-Alyssa-**

I stuck with Sandra; she was outspoken and a bubbly kind of person. She was always open with me and seemed to never run out of things to say, which was great because my communication skills weren't the greatest. Ryan flirted with me…a lot. I didn't really mind; it suited him in a way. He managed to make me feel welcomed and confident in myself (despite my alien looks). I learned that the sun god's name was Paul. Paul still didn't like me. He watched me sometimes, but I think it was to make sure that I wasn't causing any trouble. All of his friends were huge; Sandra explained that Paul was a part of La Push's security, making sure things were safe (whatever that means -I mean, come on! This is a small town, what could happen?) She sounded as if she wasn't really supposed to talk about it; her voice was hushed when she told me. It only made me even more curious about him.

"Hellooo? Earth to Alyssa."

"Huh? What?" I asked, the sound of her voice pulling me out of my thoughts. My eyes refocused to see Sandra looking displeased. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was saying that you should definitely come over to my house before the party on Saturday to get ready."

"Get ready?" I questioned, taking the last bite of my pizza.

"Uh, yeah!" she said, sounding as if it was obvious. "There are going to be boys there, we can't go there looking ordinary." Ah, I had forgotten; Sandra was crazy about boys.

I swallowed. "It's going to be cold and windy. We're going to be in sweaters and jeans anyway."

Sandra sighed, "Have you been checking the weather?" She nibbled on a fry.

"My brother lost the controller."

"Ouch. But anyways, the weather is supposed to be good that day. Only a light breeze and warmer temperatures." She nibbled on a few more fries.

"I'm gonna go throw my tray away," I stand up. She nodded in acknowledgement. I picked up my empty Styrofoam tray and headed for the trash cans.

"…can you believe…too pale…creepy red eyes…freak…"

I turned to see a table full of girls all wearing a similar style, peaking glances at me and laughing. I glared. That just made them giggle more. "Do you think she's going to try and curse us?" a girl said to her friend, her voice conveniently loud enough for me to hear. The girl was obviously just messing around; the gleam in her eye, however, was malicious. She flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Not unless she tries to suck our blood," her friend replied.

The rest of the girls at the table laughed.

"Hey," said a low, husky voice from behind me. I turned around only to face a chest; I looked up and saw that it was Paul. His eyes were on the girls at the table. My stomach dropped to the floor, he was with them. I then noticed that his hands were balled up into fists and he seemed to be shaking a little. I turned back around to see the girl's expressions; they looked surprised that Paul had talked to them.

The girl that made the cursing comment rearranged her surprised expression into a flirty smile, "Hey, Paul. What's up?"

My eyes flickered back to his face. Paul wasn't smiling, in fact, he looked upset. "Marissa, bullying is unattractive. Get a makeover," he said; his voice sharp and firm. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Marissa and her clique, his hand was hot and gentle. The contact sent butterflies into my stomach and made my heart pound.

"Thanks." I said. I was grateful and shocked that he stood up for me.

Paul let go of my arm -I instantly missed his touch-, his dark eyes bore into mine. "Marissa is vicious. Stay away from her."

"She's in my first hour."

"Just don't talk to her."

"You don't need to tell me that." I rolled my eyes. "But, honestly, what could she do in front of a teacher?"

"She doesn't care about witnesses, in fact, she likes the attention. She'll punch you if you give her the opportunity."

"I'll punch her back."

The corner of Paul's mouth twitched, for a second it looked like he was going to smile. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. "Punch her hard." Paul said, before walking away.

**I hope you liked it!! Please review, criticism is accepted!! :)**

**Oh, albinism is when a person is albino. Where the person has little to no pigment. Usually people with albinism have blue eyes -the red eyes thing isn't common, but in this Fanfic I wanted to make her eyes red. : ) She can't see well because of it -her vision isn't blurry, it's just that she has poor "resolution". It's more like the lack of detail. Just thought you guys should know that. **


	2. Cold tones

**Thank you so much for the reviews, I'm so glad that you liked it. I've been wanting to do a Paul imprint story, so this should be fun. But just to warn you, I'm not so great with temper but I'll try really hard to keep Paul in character. I'm also not good at describing romance, so most likely there will be drama to make up for it. lol. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Twilight series.**

* * *

**-After school, later on that night-**

**-Alyssa-**

"You look kinda funny, Alyssa."

My eyes refocused to see Michael watching me from the recliner; amusement written on his face. His dark brown hair was wet and disheveled from an earlier shower.

"Excuse me?" I asked, making sure I heard him right. I shifted my position on the couch so that I was sitting on the edge with my feet flat on the floor, ready to begin the chase if I had heard him right.

"I said you looked kinda funny," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. "Are you fantasizing about a guy?"

I smiled a sugar-sweet smile. Michael's brows knitted together, confused by my expression. I then jumped to my feet, hopped over the coffee table and lunged at him. Michael was quick and just barely escaped my grasp. I pushed my body off of the recliner and darted after him. "I was fantasizing about the day you go to military school!" I yelled, nearly at his heels.

"So you _were _fantasizing about a guy!" he mocked as he rounded a corner quickly. He was running with bare feet while I had socks on, so it took me a precious two seconds to make it round the corner. Evil wooden floors.

"You _are_ a guy, stupid!" I replied, now a couple yards behind him. I increased my speed, not wanting to get too far behind him.

"Aw, gross! Incest!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, I tackled him -he was lucky that he landed on the rug-. I pinned him to the ground and tickled him like he had never been tickled before -the only reason I didn't punch him was because Dad would have grounded me. "Do you even know what that means, you little brat?!" I asked as I went for his sides.

He was laughing hard, but managed to say, "Sorta." There were tears in the corner of his dark blue eyes as he laughed.

"Don't _ever _suggest that again!" I yelled in his ear, my anger making me unreasonable -I didn't have to yell for him to hear me. Not totally unreasonable though. Cause, hey, he had to know that there were some things that he couldn't just say. If he said that at school and a teacher heard, they might think I was sexually harassing him or something. Which was _so_ gross and so _not_ the case. "Ever!" I yelled for good measure.

"Okay! Okay!" he said, writhing beneath me still under tickle torture. "God, are you _trying _to blow out my eardrums?" My anger began to fade, making me merciful. I got off of him. I watched him get up. He looked at his elbow and pouted, "I got rug burn."

"That's what you get." I said. I knew I was right; he started it all.

Michael seemed to have nothing to say to that, so he walked away from me. He knew I was right too.

However, I knew that he was right about the fantasizing part. I had been fantasizing about Paul. Paul's dark eyes. Paul's smooth russet skin. Paul's silky black cropped hair. His bass voice. Okay, Alyssa, stop right there. I sighed. I was developing symptoms of a crush. I wasn't the kind of person to get all lovey-dovey so the occasion felt awkward and stupid. I went upstairs and entered my bedroom, locking the door behind me. The mahogany wood headboard rattled against the sky blue wall as I plopped down on my bed. I laid on my midnight blue comforter for who knows how long, just reminiscing about my encounter with Paul. _"Aw, that is soooo sweet, him saving you like that! I like him already and I haven't even met the guy! Make sure you give me updates about any relationship progress -even if is something as minor as him letting you borrow a pencil!"_ Jackie's, my best friend's, voice rang in my head. That was so something she'd say. I smiled and tears began to fill up in my eyes. I missed Jackie. I wanted to call her and tell her all about Paul, but the time zones made good timing difficult.

On the wall, parallel to my bed, was a corkboard full of pictures. I got up and walked over to it and smiled at the pictures; many of them were of my old friends making funny faces (with Jackie in multiple of them). Did they think about me often? They weren't too crushed about me moving, were they? I had no idea; the internet still wasn't up. My stomach twisted in a knot; I missed my friends. I missed my old house; it had been my home. The only reason I had agreed to move was because my dad had been so worried about me. I winced at the memory of my fair skin turned red from sun exposure; Dad didn't want that to happen again. I won't have any problems with sun poisoning here, that was for sure.

"Alyssa, honey, the pizza's here!" Dad called from the bottom of the stairs, his voice a little unclear through my door. He had left to pick the pizza up; I don't know why he couldn't just have it delivered. Oh well. Dads were strange.

**-Paul-**

"Is everything okay, man?" Jared asked, taking a large bite of pizza.

"No." I replied sourly, not touching the box of pizza. I didn't feel too good. My stomach was in a knot and I could feel a headache coming on. "I helped Alyssa today." I explained when Jared raised an eyebrow.

"You're being dramatic." Jared rolled his eyes.

"I am not." I snapped sharply. My body began to shake, which didn't really help my headache.

"You are."

"I am not, Jared! She'll get hurt if she stays with me." The image of Alyssa broken on the floor flashed through my mind. The shaking got more violent; I kicked off my shoes in preparation. My head began to throb painfully; I should take some ibuprofen later if it doesn't go away.

"Sam already discussed this with you, Paul."

"That discussion didn't do a damned thing. I already knew that imprinting was too strong for him to order me to stay away from her. I already knew that I would feel incredibly guilty if something did happen to her. Everything he told me was just review."

"Then why are you still so keen on avoiding her? Paul, the last thing you want is for her to hate you, trust me."

"No, Jared, that's exactly what I want. I want her to hate me so she'll stay away where she's safe."

"You won't be able to keep away from her."

"I can try."

"It won't last."

"We'll see about that."

"Dammit Paul!" Jared's voice rose. "You're just hurting yourself! You _need _her. She's your other half and you're hers. She'll never be as happy with someone else than with you."

I ran out the door, not bothering to close it behind me. I didn't want to hear any more. My clothes tore as I turned into the monster that I was. The monster that I too often became.

**-Next day-**

**-Alyssa-**

I didn't want to admit it, but I knew that the reason I was so eager for second hour, US History, was because Paul was there. However, I had to go through first hour first, and I was _not _looking forward to seeing Marissa. _"Punch her hard." _Paul's last words to me echoed in my head. It made me smile.

I never got the chance to punch Marissa. Actually, I was never given the opportunity. Marissa is a teacher's pet and participates in class much more than the rest of her peers. I think it's because she's trying to win Mr. Ronald's' trust or whatnot. I already had my stuff ready to go when the bell rang, so I was able to exit the classroom quickly.

I was the first to arrive in Miss. Novaku's classroom. To distract myself from the real reason I wanted to be there, I talked with Sandra and Ryan -as soon as they showed up. They seemed a little confused why I was talking so much -I usually liked to listen- but didn't say anything about my behavior. My distractions came to an end when class time was near; Ryan went back to his seat to do the homework assigned yesterday and Sandra had to make sure her cell phone was turned off. I went back to my seat and felt alone with the seat next to me being so empty. I watched the clock, waiting for Paul to show up. He only had a minute left…half a minute…twenty seconds…ten…five. Four. Three. Two. Paul entered the classroom and shut the door behind him. The bell rang, signaling that it was time for class to start and that any students still in the hallways were tardy.

I looked down at my desk; I didn't want to be caught looking at him. I opened my US history book and pulled out my homework, feigning to check it. I waited for the sound of him to sit down, but it never came. I glanced at the front of the classroom and didn't see him. I glanced next to me and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw that he was already there. Shouldn't I have heard his footsteps or something? Paul was definitely silent on his feet -quick too. The ninja sun god didn't appear to be in a good mood; he had a scowl on his face and he had his arms crossed. It was almost comical when Miss. Novaku started class in a cheerful mood, being the complete opposite of Paul. After a brief session of collecting homework, she asked us to pick a partner.

I had a dilemma.

Sandra? Ryan? Paul -hah, only in my dreams-? Sandra had another friend in this class and partnered with her. Ryan was asked by the guy next to him and he accepted. I got butterflies in my stomach and I suddenly found myself cursing the cheerful Miss. Novaku for making us have to pick a partner. I turned to Paul, who hadn't moved, and asked, "Will you partner up with me?" He kind of had to. Everyone else was quickly assembling pairs.

His dark eyes turned to me and he silently nodded.

I suddenly grew concerned by his silence. "Is everything okay, Paul?"

He didn't respond right away, but after a few seconds he said, "It's none of your business." His tone was an icy cold.

His tone hurt much more than it should have. It felt like I had been rejected. I wanted to say something in an icy tone back in retaliation, but Miss Novaku started speaking. She explained that we were work on the project in class until the end of the term. It will be worth fifteen percent of our grade. I listened to my peers complain and suggest that we do something else; I was in agreement with them, I decided that I _didn't_ want to work with Paul if he was going to be a sourpuss. A sourpuss ninja sun god.

After Miss. Novaku explained the project and handed out the rubric, Paul suggested that we divide the work in half. I'd get everything on the rubric from the picture of the freedom riders up and he'd get everything below. For a split second, that sounded great. I would do my work and he'd do his. Then I remembered my temper and dislike of cold tones and decided that I wasn't going to let him off that easy. No way. He was going to have to deal with me whether he liked it or not. If he continued to act all cold towards me -especially since I couldn't see any reasoning behind his behavior- I was going to make sure that this project was hell for him.

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**End of chapter. It was shorter than the last one, I know. I hope you like it nevertheless!! ****Please review****!!**


	3. Hypocrite

**I am a beta for two people: witchbeth and xsoutherngurl08x!! witchbeth is the author of "Reflections in the Silence" -a Collin imprint story. xsoutherngurlx is the author of "A Bond You Can't Break" -an Embry imprint story. Please read them, they're really good!!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Twilight series, Stephenie Meyer does.**

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**-Alyssa-**

Today was the day.

The day that I would be going to the beach. I was excited as heck…as well as so nervous that I was getting a sick feeling in my stomach. What would I do if Paul was there? I had been thinking about our last exchange and concluded that making the project hell for Paul might be a mistake. Maybe Paul was just in a bad mood that day. Maybe he wasn't feeling well. Maybe Paul just really didn't want to talk about it. I was going to find out if his bad behavior was a fluke or not.

I really hoped it was.

I had spent most of my day dreaming up scenarios at the beach. Ranging from how I would react if he apologized to how I would react if he was still a jerk. Either way, I wasn't going to brush it off as nothing. I was going to try and react accordingly. Although, I might as well be asking for a million dollars. I wasn't too smooth when it came to reacting to things. I had a tendency to overreact. I really hope that the tendency wasn't going to show up today.

I sighed. I was doomed. I was oh so doomed. The doorbell rang, and I knew it was Sandra. Too late now to reconsider going. I reluctantly got off of my bed and hurried down the stairs to greet my friend. I quickly introduced her to Dad and Michael, and then hastily escaped back up to my room with her in tow. I wanted to expose Sandra to my brother as little as possible -he was known to annoy my friends in the past. She was wearing a thin white long-sleeved top and a sky blue skirt that went to her knees.

I let Sandra look through my clothes -I had finally unpacked them out of the boxes- and waited until she decided what I should wear. I decided to sit on my bed and keep out of the way; to be invisible actually. I was hoping that she didn't want me to try on clothes to see how they looked on me.

My mind quickly went to Paul, what kind of girls did he like? I bit my lip and hoped that there was some sort of outfit in my arsenal that would catch his eye -in the good way. My heart sank. Surely any outfit like that would be something that wouldn't provide me enough protection from Washington's weather. Sandra claimed that it was warmer today than usual, and she was right, but this was Washington-warm and that was different from _my_ definition of warm.

Basically, a nice pair of jeans, a nice sweater, and a nice pair of shoes that could handle the rocky beach of La Push; I told her that.

She frowned, "This is a bonfire, you know. You'll get hot by the fire."

"If I get too hot then I'll just walk away from it."

Sandra sighed. "Okay, how about you wear a _thin_ sweater."

"Alright," I approved her suggestion with a sigh. "That sounds good."

Sandra then began to search for a thin sweater -that she approved of-. "So," she began, looking through my closet. "You're partners with Paul on that project Miss. Novaku assigned."

"Yeah, what about it?" I asked cautiously.

Sandra shrugged. "I was just wondering how you felt about it."

I had already told her about Paul rescuing me from Marissa. I hadn't quite told her about his cold tone yesterday. "I _would_ have been excited if it wasn't for the fact that he was rude to me yesterday." I said, letting some acid leak into my tone.

Sandra stopped looking through my closet and turned to me, her brows knitted together. "Rude?"

"Yeah, he was all being all cold and was acting like he didn't want to work with me." I said. I crossed my arms over my chest so I wouldn't be tempted to take my frustration out on my belongings.

"I know Paul has a temper and a mouth on him, but he's not mean or anything," she said, obviously confused by my story. "A little scary sometimes, but I've known him since elementary so its not a big deal."

"I don't know what his problem was," my voice sounded upset and sad. Goosebumps appeared on my skin, what if _I_ was the problem? Maybe he regretted helping me. Regretted helping a freakish looking girl like me. More than that; an _inhuman_ looking girl like me.

Sandra must have seen something in my expression cause she came over and sat down next to me. "Hey, don't worry about it. Paul's been acting strange ever since his huge growth spurt. He might have just been in a bad mood and took it out on you," she said, her tone soothing.

I nodded and then smiled at her. I let Sandra's words build an angry fire inside of me. He _better_ apologize at the beach.

Sandra smiled, seeing that wasn't upset anymore -just angry at Paul. "Whoa, there tiger, save that energy for the beach."

"Right."

I no longer cared about looking good -I wanted to be comfortable, to be able to move easily. Just in case Paul's temper was really bad. I went over to my closet and took out a hoodie and slipped it on. "I'm ready, let's go."

"What about looking nice?" Sandra asked, a little put out.

"It doesn't matter to me anymore. Right now, I just want some answers out of Paul."

Sandra drove us to First Beach -I didn't have my license-, it only took ten minutes. We climbed out of her red Saturn and walked towards First Beach. There were rocks in the sand and wood everywhere, Sandra informed me that they were called driftwood. The driftwood was a faded brown and looked twisted. There were quite a few people on the beach; many cluttered around bonfires that were scattered about. My eye scanned the area, looking for Paul. Then a hand went over my eyes; distracting me from my task as well as taking away my sense of sight.

"Hey beautiful, who are you looking for?" a familiar voice asked.

I smiled. "Hi, Ryan." Ryan moved his hands, and I turned so I could face him.

"Glad you could make it," he said, sounding genuine. I noticed that he was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. Was I the only one with a sweater? I glanced around and saw that, yes, I was the only one with a sweater. It was warm, but not warm enough for me to go out in a t-shirt. Everyone else thought differently, being used to the colder climate.

"Glad to be here." I replied, tucking some of my light colored hair behind my ear, slightly embarrassed. Flattered, too.

"Did you want to go and see the tide pools?" he asked, his eyes were bright with excitement.

"Uh, yeah that sounds good." I turned to ask Sandra if she wanted to go too, but she was out of sight. Ryan led me through the trees, following a well traveled trail. I glanced at the ground every once in a while to make sure that there wasn't any roots trying to trip me.

It didn't take too long to reach the tide pools; I wasn't the only one peering over the edge to see the natural aquarium. I sat there for nearly ten minutes, staring into the shallow pool, listening to Ryan and looking where he pointed. Then we moved on to another tide pool. The second didn't hold as much as the first, so we only stuck around there for a few minutes.

We decided that we were hungry and that we better get back before the food is all gone. With the incentive of food, we returned to the bonfires quicker than we left them. I found Sandra, she was talking to one of her friends -I couldn't remember the girl's name and felt guilty about it, considering that she sat with us at lunch-.

Me, Sandra, Ryan, and the girl put some hotdogs on a straightened wire coat hanger, and tried to cook our hotdogs over the fire, sitting on a big log of driftwood. _Tried_ was the keyword. My hotdog fell into the fire, Ryan burnt his, Sandra had about as much luck as I did, and Lindsay -I found out what her name was by listening- was a hotdog cooking master; hers turned out perfect.

My second attempt was much better; it was slightly burnt, but I ate it all up. I only ate that one; I didn't feel much like sitting there cooking hotdogs any more; I was getting a little too warm for comfort, Sandra had been right about getting too hot. I should have listened to her when she suggested wearing a _thin_ sweater.

I excused myself, claiming that I was done eating and was going to walk the beach a bit. Ryan looked like he wanted to come with me, but he was busied with his second and third hotdog cooking on a single hanger.

Sandra and Lindsay were talking privately; they were best friends and I didn't want to interrupt them. A tinge of jealousy stabbed at me; Sandra wasn't going to become my BFF, she already had one. I mentally told myself that not being Sandra's number uno on the friends list was okay. Lindsay was here first and was normal. I quickly headed towards the water, feeling rejected and lonely.

I then spotted a tall figure out of the corner of my eye and looked. It was a man; he looked to be over six feet tall, and was wearing only a pair of cut off jeans. His back was facing me, but from here I could tell that he had rippling muscles. My heart jumped up and picked up in tempo. My stomach filled up with butterflies, and I suddenly wished that I didn't eat that hotdog.

I took a deep breath and walked over. He looked like he was waiting for something standing alone; I glimpsed a cell phone in his large hand. He must have heard me because he turned around. I froze. The man wasn't Paul. I then realized, now that I was much closer, that he was much too tall to be Paul. His eyes were pitch black and he looked angry.

I took an involuntary step back, intimidated. My heart was pounding in my ears. "Sorry, I thought you were someone else." I managed to say, grateful that it had come out even. I wanted to run; this man was scary.

His expression changed; looking stressed and…sad? "You're looking for Paul," he said, his voice lower than Paul's. I noticed that his words were a statement.

"I need to talk to him." I said, wondering how this man knew.

The man nodded, understanding.

"Do you know where he is?" I asked, after a pause.

"He'll be here in a little bit," he replied gruffly.

"Okay, thanks."

The man nodded absently, turning his gaze to the woods.

Silence.

I shifted uncomfortably. "I'm Alyssa." I told him, mostly to fill the quiet. My heart had steadied, to my relief.

"Sam."

Another silence.

"Do you know Paul well?" I asked.

Sam said nothing.

"He seemed upset yesterday."

Sam finally looked back at me, his eyes frustrated. "Don't mind that," he said, his words sounding strangely like an order.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, even though a part of me was frightened at the possible answer of a 'no'.

Sam's face hardened. I tensed at the change of expression. "Everything's fine," he said softly. His eyes were guarded, cautious.

I didn't believe Sam for one second. "Are you sure?" I pressed, shifting my weight to one foot and crossing my arms. I needed to look like I wasn't scared; weak, vulnerable.

His expression changed; it was a mask of calm. In fact, he looked wise in a way, as if he had seen too much and learned more than he bargained for."Positive," he replied, his tone as cool as a cucumber. Sam must have experience at lying; his face revealed nothing.

"'Kay." I said, my tone portraying that he hadn't convinced me.

Sam glanced back at the forest and then checked the time on his cell. He put the cell into his pocket. His lips formed a tight line and he turned to face the forest. My eyes followed his gaze, but I didn't see anything. Sam then crossed his arms and looked angry.

Relief washed through me; I knew he wasn't angry at _me_. My ears picked up the sound of…cuss words. Swearing. Profanities. Whoever was yelling them had a good pair of lungs. I then saw tall figures coming out of the forest, two of them pulling another tall figure along.

"I am _not_ talking to her!"

"Oh shut up, Paul," a female voice said sharply, sounding irritated. "Enough already."

"Don't tell me to shut up, Leah." Paul hissed, still being pulled by two other men.

Leah wrinkled her nose.

"Come on, Paul, give it a chance," said the guy holding onto Paul's left arm.

"_No_." Paul growled, yanking on his arm.

"Stop it." the guy on his right ordered Paul. Paul stopped trying to escape their grasp instantly, as though his muscles suddenly froze. "You _will_ talk to her."

The two guys released Paul.

Paul glared at them and then turned and saw Sam. He assessed Sam's angry expression and started to head me and Sam's direction quickly, probably wanting to get things over with. As soon as he saw me, however, he halted, looking like he had been electrocuted.

"Paul." Sam said, warning.

Paul looked from me to Sam and then back again. Paul reluctantly walked over and looked back at Sam.

Sam stepped closer to Paul and started talking; too low for me to hear. If it wasn't for me being able to see Sam's lips move, I wouldn't have known he was speaking.

Paul stiffened and balled his fists.

Then Sam walked over to the group of similar looking men -and woman-, he was the tallest.

Anxiety bubbled up; I was alone with Paul. He wasn't looking at me; he was staring at the ground. He wasn't wearing a shirt -only cut off jeans-, revealing sculpted muscles that guys dreamed about having. The sun god was as beautiful as ever. I hoped he wasn't going to turn into a sourpuss on me. I breathed in. "Hi."

"Hi." Paul mumbled, still not looking at me.

"How are you?" I asked, stalling. I couldn't remember anything that I was going to say. Darn it. I had some pretty witty stuff too.

"Been better."

I waited for a few seconds for him to ask about me, but he didn't. I pursed my lips; he was a senior in high school, he should know by now that asking how I was in return was the polite thing to do. "Well, I could say the same thing." I replied sourly.

Paul glanced up at me to see the expression that accompanied my tone. His face hardened at what he saw. "What do you want?" he asked briskly, his tone applying that I was an annoyance.

"I want to know what your deal was, yesterday." I said, my volume rising a notch out of anger.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Liar.

"Don't lie to me, Paul." I hissed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He shrugged. "Sorry." He didn't sound sorry at all.

"You were being cold and rude."

"My bad."

"What is your _problem_?" I yelled, irritated. Who did he think he was anyways?

"_You're_ my problem." Paul said. I breathed a sharp intake of salty air. "I don't have time to deal with you, alright?"

"_I'm_ your problem?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. You are. So leave me alone."

I almost said _fine_, but then my attitude kicked in. "Too bad."

Paul's eyes darkened. "What do you mean "too bad"?"

"I'm not going to leave you alone, not until you _apologize_ and treat me with _respect_."

Paul looked like he was going to be sick, he was shaking.

I stepped back warily, not wanting be close in case he upchucks.

Paul closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'd rather cut my tongue out than apologize to someone like you."

"Someone like me?" I asked infuriated. "And what the hell does that mean?" I didn't want to know what he meant. I probably knew it already. But I _had_ to hear it from him; I couldn't stand thinking about the possibilities of what he could say.

Paul didn't answer me.

"Paul." I said, demanding his response.

He remained silent, his shaking stopped.

"Say it to my face!" I yelled at him. "Whatever you meant, I want to hear you say it! Don't you dare chicken out on me." I could feel my throat tightening; I was on the verge of crying. I wouldn't let myself cry in front of him though. I don't cry in front of anyone, and I wouldn't ever do so in front of Paul.

Paul opened his eyes and then plastered on a smirk. "Do you _really _want to know what I think of you?"

I nodded. My vocal chords were experiencing some technical difficulties at the moment.

"I think that you don't belong here; you should go back to Michigan and never come back. You look like some freakish vampire out of a horror movie. And you are incredibly nosy, putting your nose in other people's business. You make me want to bury myself alive just so I won't ever have to be near you again."

I doubled over, clutching my sides; _laughing_.

Paul's expression was priceless in response; shocked, confused, frustrated, and freaked out. He didn't know that laughing was a cover up.

I was actually crying; his words had hit me hard and sharp. "That's…so…ridiculous." I said in between guffaws.

"What's so ridiculous about it?" Paul asked, sounding frustrated.

I stopped laughing and wiped at my eyes, keeping up the smile on my lips. I then looked straight into his eyes, "You're such a hypocrite."

"A hypocrite?" Paul repeated.

"You heard me. Marissa looks like a saint compared to you." Paul didn't respond, so I continued, feeling braver as I spoke, "Its funny how you tell Marissa off for bullying me, and yet here you are, doing the same thing. I have to say, Paul, it's very _unattractive_."

An emotion flitted across his face, but I couldn't label it -it was gone too quickly. He opened his mouth to speak but a rain drop landed on his cheek. And then another. And another. Soon it was raining cats and dogs; I bolted, my thoughts going to Sandra. She was wearing a _white_ shirt; it will turn see-through quickly in this downpour.

I found Sandra with her arms over her chest. Lindsay was besides her, looking frustrated that she couldn't help. I took off my hoodie and handed it to Sandra.

"Thanks a bunch, Alyssa," she said after putting on my hoodie, pulling me into a hug. I patted her back twice and then she released me. "Let's go." She turned to Lindsay. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. It was nice seeing you again, Alyssa."

We went our separate ways. I climbed into Sandra's red Saturn. Sandra turned the key in the ignition and we were off.

"So, did you find Paul?"

"Yeah." I answered softly. I was cold. I was wet. Paul's words had sunk in, leaving a jagged hole in my chest. I was miserable.

"And?"

"He was a jerk about it." I sniffed. I wasn't going to cry; it was just because I was wet. That's the reason. That's all it is.

"You okay? He didn't get too mean, did he?" she asked, only glancing at me and then quickly returning her eyes to the road.

"I'm fine. Paul…isn't the guy I hoped he was."

"Maybe you can ask Miss. Novaku I you can trade partners with somebody." Her tone was light, hopeful.

"No, I'm not going to change partners, Sandra."

"Why not?" she asked, confused, brushing her wet black hair away from her face.

"Because he hates that the fact that we're partners more than I do."

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**End of chapter. Was it good? Bad? Lacking something? Let me know!!**


	4. Obsessive

**Let me know****if there is any content that you think belongs in the M rating. I changed the rating for my Leah fic, but I don't think that this story is to that point yet. Happy reading. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Twilight series, Stephenie Meyer does.**

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**-Paul-**

I could not fucking believe it!

I had done everything I could to push her away and it _wasn't_ working. I paced across the wooden floor of Emily's kitchen. There wasn't a lot of room to work with, so I could only take three steps and then turn around again. It had been so hard to say those things. Those foul, hurtful, _hypocritical_ things -and they had been useless.

My frame started to shake. Damn it, I was so sick resembling a phone on vibrate. A phone that belonged to a teenage girl with unlimited texting.

I headed for the door, already knowing that Sam would tell me to take myself and my temper outside. I knew Sam well, as I should because I was the first werewolf to phase in La Push after him. Jared had followed my lead a couple days later -we hadn't liked each other so much back then.

It took a great deal of self control not to shove the door open off of its hinges as I opened it. I walked out into the drizzling rain, leaving the delicious aroma of food behind me. I didn't bother closing the door; I had heard Sam get out of his seat and knew that he was going to follow me.

"Paul." Sam said after I was fifteen yards away from the house.

My feet stopped in their tracks instantly. I waited for him to catch up, listening to his almost completely silent footsteps come closer. "What do you want, Sam?" I asked, wheeling around to face him, my tone sharper than I had intended.

Sam's composure didn't crack a bit. His face was a mask of wisdom and calm. It didn't surprise me at all that my tone hadn't fazed him, but it was also annoyed me. A small, envious part of me wanted Sam to get upset. I was tired of getting bent out of shape so easily, so literally. "I want to talk," he said calmly.

Yeah? And I wanted to go to heaven, but we already knew that wasn't going to happen. "I'd rather not." I replied instead. We both knew I wasn't a religious person anyway. I don't even recall stepping inside a church before. A werewolf in a House of God. Kind of funny, kind of not.

"We are going to talk about Alyssa." Sam said in his alpha voice.

"Okay, Great Alpha, after I bow down to you, what do you want to hear about her?" I asked sourly. I usually showed more respect towards him, but I wasn't in the greatest mood.

Sam frowned. He didn't like taking away our free will; he must be seriously worried to go to this length. "I think you need to stop being rude to her, Paul," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

My shaking stopped. "I believe that's my decision." I said, choosing my words carefully.

"It is. I'm just telling you what I think."

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought about his thoughts but shut it quickly with an audible snap. I looked down at the ground and took a deep breath. I didn't want to say anything stupid to Sam; not only did he not deserve it, but I didn't want to piss him off and get punished.

"It isn't working, and it will probably never work." Sam said calmly.

My eyes snapped up to meet his.

"Alyssa's tactic is to keep friends close, and to keep her enemies even closer." Sam said, his voice certain. "You saw today that she isn't going to back down -that she isn't afraid to fight back. The harder you push her, the harder she'll push you back. And when she pushes you back, you're going to get upset and you might even phase. It's safer for her if you just stop this, Paul."

Sam was right. Sam was always right. It was annoying, but something that I couldn't ignore. "Okay, I'll do my best." I agreed with a sigh.

"Other than you phasing and hurting her, is there any other reason why you're pushing your imprint away?" Sam asked.

I looked back down at the ground. I had never thought about it. I just knew that I couldn't be with her. My subconscious was telling me stay away from her, but the magic was telling me to never leave her. "I don't know." I answered honestly.

Sam nodded. "Let me know when you figure it out."

I didn't reply. I wasn't sure that I would ever figure it out.

**-Next Day-**

The two minute bell rang, and I stayed put. Jared, Kim, Jake, Quil, Embry, and Seth all started to gather their stuff.

"Just remember what Sam said to you, alright?" Jared reminded me.

Kim looked confused, and I was surprised that Jared hadn't told her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jake, Embry, and Quil pause.

I nodded in response to Jared.

The trio continued onward.

"Um, good luck, Paul." Kim said quietly, her cheeks turning a bright pink.

Okay, maybe Kim _did_ know what was going on. Figures. Of course Jared has informed Kim of my imprint-issues. "Thanks Kim."

Kim nodded. She and Jared left, with him smiling down at her.

I sighed and leaned against the wall of the locker pod, crossing my arms. Students glanced at me and hurriedly passed; it bothered me a little bit. I preferred to blend in with my surroundings, but being over six feet tall made that a tad difficult. Too bad.

I watched the clock across from me slowly move forward. I could hear each tick as the red hand moved. When I had thirty seconds left, I headed for second hour. The hallways were mostly clear of traffic, which suited me just fine.

I entered Miss. Novaku's classroom with -I glanced at the clock- ten seconds to spare. Everyone was in their seats, getting prepared for class or talking amongst themselves. I took my seat, sneaking a glance at Alyssa.

She had her pale blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail resting at the nape of her neck. Her faded blue jeans hugged her hips, her orange t-shirt that clung to her figure, and she topped her outfit off with a navy blue jacket that wasn't zipped. I noticed that she was chewing something; gum, I guessed. Cinnamon flavored judging by the smell.

"Okay, I want all of you to get together with your partner and work on your projects." Miss. Novaku said. "Just remember that I will be watching and grading on effort and participation."

At this, Alyssa scooted her desk so that ours connected. I watched at she opened her binder and pulled out the rubric. I could feel the heat of her leg next to mine, only centimeters away. "Alright," she began, the cinnamon scent mixed in with hers and I nearly kissed her right then and there. Her red eyes were locked onto mine. "You heard Miss. Novaku, if you don't work with me, both of us will fail. So you're just going to have to suck it up. Are we on the same page now?"

I rolled my eyes. "Let's just get to work."

Alyssa nodded in agreement and began talking about what we should do for the project. My attention soon drifted and I found myself watching her lips move, breathing in her cinnamon scented breath.

"So, what do you think?" Alyssa asked, pulling me out of my daze.

"What?" I asked, having no idea what she had been talking about.

Her eyes darkened and narrowed. "This is not the time to be an ass, Paul," she told me pointedly. "Be serious, and tell me what you think."

"Uh…" Good going, Paul, now what are you going to say? "I think that we need to do something that nobody in the class is going to do." I said, remembering that the rubric didn't have a specific way of presenting the information. The rubric also said that you needed to present certain pieces of information, and that you were free to add more.

The blonde unconsciously leaned forward, her eyes burned with agreement and curiosity. "Go on."

Relief flooded through me. Alyssa wouldn't have to know that I didn't hear a word she said. All I had to do was make something up. "Um, give me a moment."

She nodded, granting my request.

I averted my eyes from her so I could think. Something no one else would do…hmm….poster boards were out. Damn, could Alyssa pop her gum any louder? PowerPoint was out -there was only one computer lab anyways-. I wonder if she has any gum left. C'mon Paul, think of something! She's breathing on me, how the hell am I supposed to concentrate? "Do you mind?" I asked tartly.

Alyssa's expression turned all innocent. "What?"

"You're breathing on me."

"Sorry, I'll just hold my breath until you think of something," she replied sarcastically. Alyssa hadn't distanced herself from me, like a normal person would after getting caught.

My eyes narrowed. "Look," I said, lowering my voice to the point where only she could hear. "I know that you're trying to annoy me on purpose. Cut it out. It's immature and a waste of time."

Alyssa smirked. "I could say the same for your behavior at the beach," she said smugly, keeping her volume equal to mine.

"I wouldn't have had to act that way if you'd just mind your own god damn business." I hissed. A familiar flare of heat ran up my spine and I could feel my muscles shaking, ready to stretch. I clenched my teeth and repeated the often used words in my head, which usually revolved around the word "calm".

"What are you, the FBI? CIA?" my imprint asked, her tone mocking. "Well, Mr. Secret-Service, I'll do whatever I damn please. And, in case you haven't noticed, this is _war_."

"Since when was this war?"

"It became war when you became a hypocrite." Alyssa spat.

I sighed. I needed to change tactics, and fast. "Sounds like you're being obsessive."

"What are you talking about?" Her eyes flickered with panic; Alyssa knew exactly what I was talking about.

I pulled the corner of my mouth up in a smirk. "You're obsessing over me, you _do_ realize that don't you?"

Bright pink crept up into her cheeks; it was a very cute sight. "I am _not_ obsessing over you," she hissed. "I'm obsessing over getting pay back!"

"What good is that going to do you?"

She remained quiet for a moment, and I sensed that she was at a loss of words.

My shaking stopped. "It's not going to benefit you, I guarantee it."

"Shut up." Alyssa snapped. "You started this mess, and you're going to have to end it with a sincere apology."

"You'll seriously stop if I say I'm sorry?" I asked, unable to believe that an apology would really stop her. Alyssa seemed like the kind of girl that would hold a grudge, apology or not.

"It couldn't hurt your chances," she shrugged.

Just as I thought. Why the hell did I have to imprint on somebody like her? My life would be so much easier if I didn't have to fight with her every time we saw each other. "Forget being different than everybody else." I said quickly, my thoughts returning to the project. "Let's just go with writing a boring paper, the standard way."

"Fine," the blonde said with huff. "That means that I won't have to listen to any of your stupid ideas."

"You don't even know if they were stupid or not because I never talked about them."

"I bet you didn't have any," she said, her lips twisting into a mocking grin. Her teeth were straight and pretty. "I bet you weren't listening to me at all and was in la-la land dreaming about naked girls or something."

Telling her that I was only interested in dreaming about _her_ probably wouldn't make my life any easier, so I bit down on my tongue to keep the words from spilling out. It was pretty tempting to see how she would have reacted though. A deep blush would have made my day.

Shock went across her face and her grin slid off, "You aren't denying it? You really were dreaming about naked girls?" She edged away from me. "Paul, that's perverted."

"I wasn't dreaming about naked girls, idiot" I rolled my eyes, letting acid leak into my tone. "The reason I didn't say anything after your dumb theory was because I was trying to think of a way to make you _shut up_."

This made Alyssa smile a little; humor glinted in her crimson eyes. "So did you think of a way to get me to shut up?"

"No, but when I do, you'll be the first to know." I said dryly.

"So about the paper," she said, turning her gaze onto the rubric. "Why don't you start writing about the freedom riders and…?"

"How young people can make a difference, like the students from the SNCC?" I suggested, being more sarcastic than serious. 'Young people can change the world' -it just seemed corny. It wasn't actually corny, I guess, just unlikely. More like impossible, in my mind, because I couldn't picture anyone that I knew changing the world. Maybe Seth, but that was because he looked on the positive side of things. It was almost crazy the way he could play peacemaker.

"Sounds good." Alyssa said, handing me a sheet of lined paper.

I started writing what I knew about the freedom riders, only to be interrupted after a few minutes.

"You need a colon here." Alyssa pointed to a place on the paper.

I added a dot above my comma. "There. Happy?"

"No, you spelled…" She continued on and on, spotting my errors.

I knew I wasn't great at writing, but she was making my paragraph look as if a five year old wrote it, kinda knocked my self-esteem down a peg or two. "Anything else?" I asked, after the whole thing had been gone over. My frame was shaking, but I barely paid attention.

"You'll need to rewrite it," she said, her smile jeering up at me.

"What do you mean "rewrite it"?" I asked angrily.

Alyssa then began to explain to me that if we're going to get a good grade for the paper it had to be perfect. That meant that everything had to be organized. She continued on to tell me what other sorts of things should go onto my paper and in what order.

When the bell rang, signaling that class had ended, I was sad and relieved. I was going to miss her; her voice, her cinnamon scented breath, her face, her everything. However, Alyssa was making this project painfully tedious. It was hell.

I don't think I've loved or hated anything more than hell.

* * *

**SNCC stands for Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. In 1961, students who were members of the SNCC risked their safety (for some, their lives) by taking part of the freedom rides that stretched from Washington D.C. to New Orleans, Louisiana. The buses went through states of the south, such as Alabama, who weren't supportive of racial equality. **

**Sorry for the long wait, I've been busy with my Leah fic -it's gotten intense, you should read it if you haven't. Please review, they make my day!!**


	5. Mother, may I hate you?

**PLEASE READ MY BRADY FIC****!! It's called "Hunting the Innocent". Please read my other fics as well -**_**none of them are your average imprint story**_**, I guarantee it. Seriously, you have my word. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Twilight series, Stephanie Meyer does.**

* * *

**-Alyssa- **

I was sitting on the couch watching mindless television, while Michael sat in the recliner -he had gotten there first. A commercial came on. I pressed the mute button on the remote controller.

"Hey!" Michael complained.

"It's just a commercial." I said, not taking my eyes off of the screen. I really hated commercials.

"So? Turn the volume back on."

I rolled my eyes. "We've already seen it a kajillion times."

"I like the music."

"That isn't music." I told him, turning to face him. He was beginning to irritate. "It's just an annoying tune that will get stuck in my head."

Michael pouted.

"No." I said, crossing my arms.

"C'mon Alyssa," he pleaded. "Change it back."

"_No_."

He slouched in the black leather chair and looked away from me.

"Keep it up, Michael." I encouraged. "There's nothing that _excites_ me more than when you give me the cold shoulder."

Michael didn't respond.

Cool. That meant that he would stop complaining. Better yet, he might even leave the living room. I positioned myself to watch more television.

The tv show came back on and I turned on the volume. In my peripheral vision, I saw him shift so he could watch. After ten minutes of watching the show, the commercials came back on.

"Alyssa?" he said, his tone hard.

"What?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the monitor. Being ignored was nice while it lasted, I sighed mentally.

"You're mean," he told me, his words firm.

I turned to look at him.

His brunette bangs were falling into his face, and he absently brushed them away. He wasn't teasing me; the way his mouth was set and his eyes darkened told me so. He was being serious.

"Where did that come from?" I asked. It was kind of random. I mean, I hadn't teased him in…over two hours. I let him watch what he wanted to watch. I let him borrow a CD of mine yesterday. How was I mean?

His eyes narrowed. "Stop playing dumb. You're a mean person, and you know it."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Do I?"

He nodded.

"Mmm. Sorry you feel that way, dude." I shrugged. "I can't really help how you perceive me." He didn't really mean it; I wasn't going to get worked up over a minor insult.

"What does perceive mean?" he asked, sidetracked.

"It's how you look at things, also another word for judging." I explained.

"It's not _just_ me that perceives that you're mean," he began. "_Mom_ used to say that you needed to act more like a lady. That's why she doesn't talk to you on the phone as long as she talks to me."

"She talks to you longer because you're younger." I said dismissively.

Michael shook his head. "She said that the reason she let Dad take us across the country was because she didn't want you with her. She says that she doesn't know how to handle your anger issues and your violent temper," he said, his mouth forming a smile. "She was going to keep me with her but I told her that I wanted to stick with Dad and see what La Push was like," he shrugged.

"Stop lying, Michael." I said sharply. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true.

"I'm not," he snapped. "You _know_ how much Mom asked for you to behave. I was getting a snack in the kitchen when I overheard Mom and Dad talking about you."

I jumped to my feet and strode over to him. "Michael, you've taken this _too_ far, stop it."

"They love me more because _I_ don't get into fights at school," he continued.

I grabbed the front of his shirt, cutting the distance between us to only a few inches; his eyes went wide. "I said _stop_, Michael." I growled.

I felt someone grab my arm and pull me back; Michael's shirt slipped through my fingers. "Alyssa!" my dad scolded. "Apologize to your brother -there is no excuse for violence."

"But Dad-."

"-Apologize," he ordered, releasing my arm.

"He-."

"Alyssa," he said, his voice firm with superiority.

"I'm sorry." I said, my eyes on the floor. Don't cry, I told myself mentally, don't cry. Don't let Michael see that he got under your skin. I hated my tendency to cry when I got upset.

"She doesn't _sound _like she means it." Michael complained.

"I'm _sorry_." I repeated, with forced sincerity.

"Michael, are you okay?" my dad asked.

I looked up at Dad in shock. What kind of question was that? It wasn't like I beat Michael or anything. Did he honestly think I would _hurt _my little brother?

"Yeah, she just scared me a little."

Dad turned to me. "You're grounded."

"What?!" I exclaimed in disbelief. "I apologized!"

"You should know better than to act that way towards your brother," he said in a reprimanding tone.

"But he said that-."

"-There's _no_ excuse for violence, Alyssa. _None_."

I stomped up towards my room and slammed the door. I plopped down on my bed and cried. Michael's words swirling around my head, my emotions chaotic.

_Mom used to say that you needed to act more like a lady…_

-Okay, so I wiped my hands on my jeans instead of a napkin…

…_the reason she let Dad take us across the country was because she didn't want you with her…_

-They got divorced! They weren't getting along, it didn't help that I got sun poisoning and Dad didn't want it to happen again…

…_She says that she doesn't know how to handle your anger issues and your violent temper…_

-I was never bad! I never hurt anyone…

…_They love me more because I don't get into fights at school…_

-The girl called Jackie a slut! What was I supposed to do?

…_That's why she doesn't talk to you on the phone as long as she talks to me… _

-Mom doesn't worry about me as much, she knows that I can take care of myself without her calling me every day.

…_She was going to keep me with her but I told her that I wanted to stick with Dad and see what La Push was like…_

I threw the closest thing to me that was on my nightstand. I heard glass shatter but I didn't get up to investigate. I curled my face into my pillow and screamed. I only peeled my face away from the cushion when I needed air.

It wasn't fair! Why was it that Michael always got his way? He was old enough to know better! I slammed a fist down onto my mattress.

Michael was right though, and I painfully knew it.

My mom wanted a calm, rational, polite, _normal _daughter -but instead she got me. An albino hothead that wouldn't hesitate to throw a punch. I coughed, choking on a sob and curled up tighter. I shivered and got underneath the covers. I sniffed.

Maybe if I was normal, Mom wouldn't mind my attitude…

Anger burned in my chest. I hated my eyes! I hated my hair! I hated the pale color of my skin! I hated my poor vision! Why couldn't I have been born looking like everyone else? Why did I have to be such a freak? It wasn't _my _fault that I was the way I am! I shifted positions so that I was lying on my other side. I kept my eyes shut and reviewed my memories.

I didn't know how long I laid there, but my emotions went numb. I drifted to sleep, my past floating into a slumber.

* * *

I woke up early. My eyes burned from falling asleep in my contacts. Resembling a zombie, I dragged myself out of my warm bed and into the bathroom. I didn't bother turning on the light; instead I flicked on a small night light that stood out from the outlet. No need to burn my eyes out unnecessarily.

I found the bottle I was looking for and squeezed a few drops into each eye. The liquid was cold, but the relief was instantaneous. I blinked a few times, letting it spread evenly. I sighed. Much better.

I pulled the shower curtain over and turned the knob to the right temperature. I looked in the mirror. The sight was awful. My eyes were swollen and red, my face was blotchy. My fair hair was looked like a rat's nest. I brushed out my hair, so I wouldn't have to deal with too many tangles later.

Then I slid out of my clothes from yesterday and stepped into the shower now that the water was warm. I started massaging the shampoo into my white hair. It was getting long. Maybe I should get it cut. I frowned at the nearly invisible split ends.

I should get it cut short. Short enough so that I could spike it. That would be interesting…and a little weird. Maybe not.

Maybe I should get colored hair extensions? That way I wouldn't have to dye it -Dad was against me changing anything about myself, and Mom just didn't want me doing things like that. I began rinsing out my hair.

Heh, it would be hilarious to see the look on her face if I went to her house and had a piercing somewhere. Belly-button, nose, or an eyebrow -she'd flip. Ooo, a tongue piercing would put her over the edge. I would actually have an excuse to stick my tongue out at people if I did that. Tempting. Very tempting.

I decided to skip out on the conditioner -I didn't feel like standing there for five minutes trying to get it out. I grabbed the bottle of body wash. Cinnamon and apples. I put it up to my nose and breathed the smell in. Ahhh. So good.

The scent reminded me of apple pie. My stomach grumbled.

"Oh hush." I told my digestive organ. "We'll eat breakfast when we're done here."

It grumbled again.

"Don't argue with me."

It grumbled again.

Oh dear god, I was arguing with my stomach. I sighed. I was so lame.

I lathered on my body wash. Hmm, a tattoo wouldn't be such a bad idea either if I wanted to frighten my mother. What would Paul think?

I nearly slipped. I steadied myself using the shelf, knocking over the facial wash.

Did that thought really just enter my mind? Was I insane? Who _cares _what Paul thinks? Paul was a sourpuss ninja sun god -he wasn't worth wasting brain cells over.

But still…

What would he say if he knew about the relationship between mom and I? Probably something like, _even your mother can't stand how annoying you are_.

Oh yeah? Well, screw you Paul!

And screw my own damn mother!

* * *

**I know that this is shorter than my usual chapter length, but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless!! **

**Please excuse the lack of updating too…you guys know the drill; school, social life, laziness, etc. ****But please review anyway!! -Reviews make my day and make me update more frequently. ;) **


	6. Mother, why do you hate me?

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Twilight series, Stephenie Meyer does.

* * *

**

**[The day Michael was being evil to Alyssa (before she fell asleep); I know the time is a little confusing, sorry]**

**-Paul-**

Alyssa wore me out; she was a Leonardo Da Vinci when it came to the art of driving me insane.

God, I loved her.

But man! After US History was over, I was ready to sleep until my shift for patrolling. -Not that I was looking forward to patrolling. It used to be that I didn't mind so much, in fact, I had liked it. But now, it was a daily session of nagging.

Sam nagged.

Jared nagged.

Jacob…sort of nagged.

Hell, even the kids nagged.

And I was getting damned sick of it.

They all thought that I should apologize and ask her out.

None of them knew Alyssa.

She wouldn't take any of it seriously. She would think that I was playing some kind of sick joke.

Couldn't they just let it go and leave me in peace?

I let out yawn. My pack brothers (and sister, ugh) were tiring me out, with Alyssa contributing. It was okay if she contributed though. She could do that anytime; I wouldn't protest.

"Wow, Paul, I knew you had a big mouth but I didn't know it could stretch that far." Jared teased, sitting on driftwood parallel from me.

I snapped my jaws shut with an audible snap.

He looked amused.

"Whatever. I'm too tired to deal with you." I said, getting to my feet.

"Alyssa wasn't too feisty, was she?"

I glared; a shiver of heat went down my back.

Jared gave an apologetic smile.

I sighed, the tremor of heat receded. "I'm going to go to bed."

Jared averted his eyes and his muscles tensed.

"You okay there?" I asked.

"Sorry man, you can't crash at my place tonight," he said, looking back up at me. He was wearing a small frown, it was laced with guilt and sympathy.

Nausea assaulted me at the thought of being home.

"My grandparents, y'know the ones that live in Nebraska, are staying for a couple of days. Sorry Paul."

I shrugged, "It's cool, don't worry about it. Oh, did you want me to grab my stuff?"

"Nah. I put all of it in a box -it's under my bed, if you need to grab anything real quick."

"I think I'll be okay. But keep your window unlocked just in case."

Jared rolled his eyes. "I always keep my window unlocked."

The corner of my mouth lifted. "Not when Kim's over."

He scowled with his cheeks tinged pink. "Oh, shut up," he grumbled.

"I'll see you later." I said, turning away.

"Yeah, see you." Jared replied with a lighter tone, showing that I was forgiven for the Kim-comment.

I headed for the woods when Jared said, "Maybe Sam would let you stay for a few nights."

I didn't bother turning around. "It's okay Jared. I have to go home sometime."

Jared didn't have anything to say to that; his silence was depressing.

Further into the forest, I rolled my clothes up and tied them to my ankle without thinking, acting on habit. I phased and headed home, feeling comforted by the sound of my paws hitting the ground in a steady rhythm.

My eyes saw my mom's car before I had reached 200 yards away from my house. I made an abrupt stop and sat on my haunches, debating whether to turn around and find Sam.

I listened intently on what was going inside the house. There was a soft clinking noise and a familiar sound of a knife on a slice of bread. She was making a sandwich.

I stood up; maybe I could go through her bedroom window and sneak into my room…

Wait a sec.

-It was too early for her to be off work and she doesn't come home for lunch so…?

Mom had lost her job.

My tail drooped low to the ground. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

My mom relied on her job. It was her excuse to leave everyday; it was keeping her sane, from falling apart.

I trudged onward, and phased back when I was nearing the edge of the thicket. I took a deep breath and headed towards the house. I climbed the three stairs and crossed the faded porch in a single stride. I hesitated at the door.

Another deep breath.

_You can do this, Paul. You can handle this. _

I opened the door and stepped inside.

Mom turned around to see who had entered and dropped the jar of jelly, her eyes wide.

I darted forward and caught the jar just before it hit the ground. Phew. I looked up and saw that my mom was pressed against the counter, as far away from me as possible.

She looked like a cornered victim; scared and horrified.

Hurt bit into my skin and crawled under. With deliberate slowness, I set the jelly down on the countertop and stepped back to give her some room.

She barely relaxed, still tense and ready to flee at any moment. A closer look told me that she had dark circles under her eyes, her face had more creases from so many frowns, and she had lost more weight since I had last seen her.

"Hi, Mom." I greeted quietly.

She flinched at my deep voice -it didn't belong to her sweet and shy Paul.

"You're home early." I tried again.

She nodded.

"Is work going okay?"

She pursed her lips into a thin line and shook her head.

"Do you want me to get a part time job?" I asked in hopes of earning a little bit of praise.

I wanted her to show some of her old self; the mother that was proud of her son and would boast whenever she got the opportunity.

I wanted the mom that gave me a large smile whenever I did something good or thoughtful and told me how wonderful I was.

I wanted the mom what wasn't afraid of me.

"You already have two," she said so quietly that I wouldn't have heard her if it wasn't for my wolfish hearing.

I sent her a blank look.

"School and…the other one." Mom explained, her voice a notch louder.

Typical, the one part of my old mom I got to keep was that one cared about my education. I couldn't help but smile a tiny bit.

"I wouldn't mind a job that helps pay the bills."

Mom shook her head. "I got it covered," she said firmly.

Irritation itched at my thoughts. Why did she always have to be so damn stubborn? Why did she always have to do things without any help?

She took a sharp intake of breath; her muscles were frozen in fear.

Realization dawned on me and I let go of my irritation; my body stopped shaking.

Mom exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Sorry." I apologized, looking down at the ground. "Since your job, um, didn't work out so great, there's an opening in the tourist shop a few streets down from First Beach." I risked looking up to see her expression.

On her face, barely visible, was a smile. "I'll go check it out then."

I nodded, trying to contain my smile.

"What are you grades?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Um…a B, a B-, an A-, a B+, a C, a B, and…I think a C+. It might have gone down though."

"Why do you think that?" she asked her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

I rubbed the back of my neck and averted my eyes to the wall above her shoulder. "I, uh, haven't been paying much attention."

"Do I need to have a talk with Sam?" she threatened.

My eyes locked with hers, and I felt my jaw drop in shock. "You-you would go talk to Sam?" I asked in disbelief.

She nodded curtly, her eyes full of fearless determination. "You bet I would! I told him that his watchdog routine better not mess with your education or he would have to answer to-." She stopped, staring at me in surprise.

I was laughing; doubled-over, tears in my eyes -the whole enchilada. "Sam…Sam has nothing to…do with it." I said in between guffaws.

My Mom, and her 5"1 stature, threatening Sam. -Ah man, the image was priceless.

After a few more seconds, I straightened up and wiped at my eyes. "Seriously, Mom. Neither Sam nor working my shift is affecting my grade -I promise. I'm just a little distracted because my imprint showed-." I shut my mouth quickly.

I hadn't meant to tell her about Alyssa.

"Y-you imprinted?" she asked, her face wearing a bewildered expression.

_Too late now_, I mentally grumbled. "Yeah."

To my despair, her eyes hardened and grew cold. Her jaw tensed. Her mouth slipped into a frown and her eyebrows furrowed. "Emily Young is Sam's imprint, right?"

It felt like the floor had disappeared beneath my feet. I was falling with nothing to hold onto.

"Paul," she began, her voice soft but unyielding, "I think it would be best if you stayed away from her."

I nodded mutely, keeping a tight rein on the tremors that were threatening to break the wolf out.

Mom grabbed her sandwich off the counter and began to eat, signaling that the conversation was over.

I turned on my heel and walked out the door, releasing the monster my mother feared only when I had reached the forest's edge.

Bits of torn fabric fluttered down, by the time they landed, me and my silver pelt was long gone.

**

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. -I'm supposed to be working on an essay, but the idea for this entered my mind and I had to get it down. **

**I hope you enjoyed it, despite the length and the fact that I'm slapping one of the main characters down into emotional chaos. **

**-One would think that Alyssa from the last chapter was enough…apparently my "evil" writing juices know no bounds. **


	7. Bonus Chapter

**A/N: ****This chapter IS NOT a continued part of the story.**** I wrote this ages ago. Right now I am rewriting this fic, but I wanted to update so…yeah. I hope you enjoy iy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Twilight saga, Stephenie Meyer does.**

**-Alyssa-**

"Are you okay, Alyssa?" Sandra asked, her face full of concern.

"Yeah…I'm just…tired." I lied, my stomach churning. I grabbed a raspberry-flavored water out of the fridge

The line moved forward. Sandra grabbed a cup full of fries and put it on her tray. She was about to say something, but a deep voice interrupted.

"You look like hell."

Those four words brought my simmering anger to a boil. It took all of my self-restraint not to punch him.

I turned and glared up at Paul. "And you look like an ass."

Paul smirked. Stupid Paul.

The line moved forward again and I had to turn away from Paul so I could hand the lady at the register my money.

"Is that all you're getting, dear?" the woman at the register asked, disapproval in her eyes. She wanted to see students getting a full lunch, eating properly.

I nodded.

She took my money and returned my change, "You're all set."

"Thank you. Have a nice day." I said to her before walking a few feet away. I waited for Sandra to pay for her lunch.

Sandra quickly went to my side when the lady behind the register gave her the all clear. Her eyes asked me if we were going to just stand there or what.

"You go on ahead." I told her. If Paul wanted to argue, oh he'd get an argument alright!

She sighed. "You really shouldn't pick a fight with Paul."

"Who's picking?"

Sandra rolled her eyes and walked onwards to our table at the other side of the cafeteria.

Paul had a lot of food -skillfully piled onto one tray-; it would take the woman longer to punch in the correct keys. After about twenty seconds, the woman told Paul that he was good to go. He mumbled a thank you and headed towards me.

I opened my water and took a sip. "Jeez, Paul, are you trying to stop world hunger with all of that?"

Paul leaned against a table casually, setting his food down behind him. "Are you trying to loose weight?"

My grip on the water bottle tightened, preparing myself for battle. "No, but maybe you should try. Lying off the steroids might help too."

"I don't do drugs, but you should probably quit puking after meals. Drink some milk too; it's easy to see that you need it."

"Obviously the lack of oxygen is up there is getting to your head, because I'm not short. You're just freakishly tall, steroid boy."

"Well, bulimic girl, you need to get a new set of contacts because nearly everyone here is taller than you by at least an inch."

"People with bulimia eat an excessive amount of food and _then _throw up, idiot. And as you can see, I only have a water."

"Oh _sorry_, Great Eating Disorder Master." Paul sneered. "Pretend I said 'purging disorder girl', instead."

"I guess I should thank you," I shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not often that girls are insulted for their thinness."

"Yeah, but they usually _have_ curves."

He did _not _just say that! I crossed my arms so I wouldn't punch him. -I couldn't afford another mark on my record. "Well, curves or no curves, Ryan thinks I'm pretty. So I guess it's your word against his."

Ah-ha! What now, Paul?

"Ryan is a man-whore who would compliment anything with breasts." Paul snarled.

I unconsciously stepped back. He was shaking and the intensity of his words made me wonder what had happened to make Paul hate Ryan so much. Then my loyalty kicked in, reminding me that Ryan was the one that made me feel the most welcome in La Push. He made me feel confident about being the only person with albinism surrounded by Indian descendants. I wasn't going to stand by and let him receive insult! "Take that back, Paul!" I hissed, my teeth clenched together. "Ryan is _not _a man-whore!"

"Oh, he definitely is," he sneered.

My eyes narrowed. I tightened the grip on my water bottle and then jerked it in his direction. Water shot out, getting his shirt and face wet. I raised my chin a fraction of an inch, silently telling him that he deserved every drop. I could feel people staring at us, but I didn't care. That just meant that there were witnesses if Paul decided to punch me.

Paul didn't punch me.

He just stared at me, his eyes dark. I couldn't label the expression on his face. To my astonishment, he walked away from me.

My jaw dropped slightly for a second, and then my mouth twisted into a grin of satisfaction. I was victorious!

I quickly found out that it was much too soon to celebrate victory; the back of my shirt was suddenly soaked. Turning, I saw Paul with a can of cream soda; he was shaking it with his finger over the opening, ready to retaliate for the second time. His face said that he was ready to play this food fight game with me. I then realized that when he had walked away, it was to set his tray down and to get a weapon of his own.

My opponent was cunning. Either that, or I was just arrogant. Maybe both.

I backed up, not wanting to get soaked again. My eyes flickered from Paul to the tables. I was looking for when he would unleash his attack and for something that I could use to throw at him.

Paul stopped shaking the can and directed it at me. Cream soda was definitely the most 'explosive' kind of soda; it reached me even though I had stepped back.

I raised my arm to shield my eyes, and then I dashed towards the closest table and grabbed a handful of spaghetti -its owner complained, but he was ignored- and flung it at Paul.

Paul ducked, dodging it completely. I saw that he had already attained something else to use against me but I couldn't tell what it was; all I could see was that it was in a blue cup.

I backed up, glancing for something else.

Paul reached me in four strides, and grabbed the front of my shirt before I could jump out of the way. He dumped the contents of the cup down my shirt and I shrieked.

It was _cold_; it was ice cream.

Paul's gigantic friends and the lunch supervisors stopped us before it got any more out of hand. Lucky for Paul because I was ready to beat the living day lights out of him. It hadn't mattered if he was bigger and stronger; I wanted a piece of him.

--

We were sent to the principal's office. And it was there where we both earned ourselves two weeks of suspension.

"Wait, Mr. Lark." I said, pleadingly. "We have a project in US history, it's worth 15 percent of our grade and-."

"-Do you have the rubric?" he asked, interrupting me He sounded tired.

"Yes, but-."

"-Do you know what you need to do?"

"Yes, but Mr. Lar-."

"-I don't see why you can't work on it at home. You'll have to get your partner's phone number and make some plans then."

"But _he _is my partner!" I pointed at Paul the Jerk.

Mr. Lark's brows knitted together, "Miss. Winters go to the councilor's office, please. They'll ask you a few questions. Paul, you stay here."

I turned on my heel and headed towards the councilors office.

"Hello, Alyssa." a woman with Quileute features greeted when I entered.

"Hi," I replied quietly.

"Would you mind telling me what happened?" Mrs. Hoppa asked.

"He said something, and I splashed my water onto him. He retaliated with cream soda and ice cream. That's pretty much it."

"What did he say?" the councilor inquired.

"He insulted a friend of mine."

After a moment of quiet, she asked, "Do you and Paul argue often?"

"Yeah, I guess so." I said. I shifted in my seat. I was sticky and uncomfortable and ready to kick Paul in the shin for spraying me with the soda.

"Why?"

"Because he's a jerk."

"Has he done anything to you?" she asked, her tone suddenly serious.

"Done anything to me?"

Mrs. Hoppa nodded.

I stared at her, not comprehending. Then it clicked and I shook my head quickly. "No! Ew, god no!" When it looked like she had hoped for some more assurance, I added, "Paul hasn't done anything like that; he usually keeps a good foot of space between us, thinks I'll give him some kind of albino disease or something. He even helped me out once."

"How did he help you out?"

I cringed. I hadn't meant to tell her that. Paul was supposed to look like the jerk he was, not some kind of hero. But it was too late: her curiosity had been peaked. "A girl was saying some rude things and he told her that bullying was unattractive and to get a makeover."

Mrs. Hoppa smiled at this.

"But after that, Miss. Novaku assigned a project worth fifteen percent of our grade. I asked him to be my partner cause everyone else had partnered up and he agreed, but he was all cold to me for no reason. So I asked him why he acted that way at a bonfire on the beach and he was a complete jerk about it. We haven't gotten along since."

"Hmm. So what exactly did he say that made you splash water onto him?"

"I told you he was insulting my friend."

"Could you elaborate, please?"

I sighed. "He called a friend of mind a man-whore. He's just angry because Ryan is actually liked by the female population."

Mrs. Hoppa remained quiet, thoughtful. And then she said, "I'll talk to him and his mother."

And somehow, I got the feeling that Paul had been in this office many times before. Dismissing that thought, I nodded to Mrs. Hoppa and left the office. Paul was sitting in the chair against the wall.

"Paul?"

"Hmm?" His muscles tensed, but he stayed in his position.

"What are you going to be doing during suspension?" I asked, trying to sound nice.

Paul opened his eyes and looked at me. They were dark grey. "Why?"

"Because we need to work on the project, and I was wondering when you would have the time to do that."

Paul averted his eyes to the floor. "Maybe I don't want to work with you."

"Maybe you do."

Paul looked back at me. "I don't think so."

"It's fifteen percent of your grade." I reminded him.

"I don't really care about grades."

"I care about mine."

"That's your problem."

"Exactly. That means that I will do whatever is necessary to get you to help me with it."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Sure you will," his tone was full of doubt.

"Yeah, I will." I said, ignoring his tone. "Even if I have to stalk you."

The corner of Paul's mouth lifted. "You won't be able to find me."

"I'll find a way."

"Even if you did, you wouldn't be able to catch me."

"I'll find a way."

"Even if you did that, you wouldn't be able to make me."

I pursed my lips. "Do you take bribery?"

Paul's mouth quirked into a crooked smile. His teeth were straight and white (I bet he had braces once); the color seemed to shine as it contrasted with his dark skin. "Depends, what's the bribe?"

"I don't know." I shrugged; all of my creative juices were dried up. "What do you want?"

Paul's smile faded. "You're desperate, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

Paul sighed. "Fine, I'll help you. Your house tomorrow at three o'clock."

"Why my house?"

"Because my house isn't adequate."

I had never heard Paul use such a word as 'adequate'. I was surprised. "Adequate?" I giggled.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Just give me your phone number so I can call you in case something comes up."

I held out my hand, palm up.

Paul stared at me like I was a freak. "What?"

"Give me your phone."

"I don't have a cell phone."

Now it was my turn to stare at him like he was a freak. At my old school, nearly every teenager had a cell phone (and because of that, phones were banned to keep the students from texting each other) "You don't have a cell phone?"

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p'.

"Okay, then give me your hand."

"Why?" he asked cautiously.

"So I can write on it." I said with forced patience, trying to keep my temper in check.

"You can't use a piece of paper?"

"Why would I waste an entire sheet?"

Paul sighed. "You're impossible."

"I'm impossible? You're impossible! I was just trying to give you my number and you're being a goddamned sourpuss on me!"

Paul raised an eye brow. "I have never been called a sourpuss before," he sounded amused.

"Well, then it's about time you have."

"You're really strange sometimes."

"You are too."

There was a pause.

"Are you going to give me your number?"

I rolled my eyes. "Are you going to give me your hand?"

Paul put his hand in mine; it was hot and felt a little rough. It was also huge compared to my own.

I pulled out a pen from my pocket and clicked the top of it down. "Could you make a fist? It'll go on better that way."

Paul obeyed. His tendons were prominent beneath his russet skin.

I wrote on his hand carefully, wanting to make sure it was legible. I felt his eyes on me, but I didn't look up. "That one's my cell." I labeled the number '-cell'. "And this next one is my home phone." I began to write another number. He didn't actually need my home phone because I usually answered my cell, but I didn't want him to pull his hand away -the heat was soothing, somehow. When I finished I clicked the pen again.

Paul took his hand out of mine. I composed my face quickly, hiding the glimpse of a frown.

I put my pen back into my pocket and then turned to him, with a small smile on my face. "See you tomorrow?"

"That's the plan. Three o'clock and don't forget."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter isn't actually a continued part of the story. I wrote this ages ago. Right now I am rewriting this fic, but I wanted to update so…yeah. I hope you enjoyed it! **


	8. Bonus Chapter II

**A/N:**

The rewrite of this story will be very different from the original. So dissimilar in fact, that I am going to ask you to forget everything you know about the Quileute werewolves. My new story will _not_ be about mystical creatures running down the northwest coast of the United States with their heads full of imprinting drama.

My new story will be about psychology, morals, racism, and the conflict that is love and hate. All of which just happens to take place in the life of Stephenie Meyer's temperamental werewolf, Paul, and my own character, Alyssa.

The original story was amusing, but it wasn't deep enough. I can write so much better and _you_, my readers, deserve the best. That is why I am going to delete this story titled _Unattractive_ once I am finished with the first chapter of the newer version. The polished edition will be called _Color and All_. If you have me on Author's Alert, you'll be automatically informed when the rewrite is posted.

Warning: The rating of _Color and All _will be Teen, but borderline Mature due to adult themes, language, and violence. There will be no sex.

**A/N 2: **

I am going to put my Brady fanfiction (_Hunting of the Innocent_) and my Seth fanfiction (_Just Say Okay_) on hiatus; I won't be updating them any time soon with this new Paul fic, and my Leah fic on the verge of a possibly clichéd plot twist. My Collin fic…will be continued as promised. When I will update _The Average Werewolf_, I have no idea. I'll have to work that one out.

**A/N 3: **

Thank you all so much for the support you have given me, I appreciate it a lot. This new story will be difficult to write, but I know I will be able to do it with the foundation you all have built for me. :)

Now, onto the second bonus chapter! (Since it is against rules to post a chapter only containing an author's note)

--

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Twilight series, Stephenie Meyer does.**

**This is does not follow the order of the other chapters. This is completely separate.**

**-Alyssa-**

Paul's face got the most…I don't even know how to describe his expression…it was strange, I guess. He looked brainwashed for a split second there or something. His eyes weren't black, much to my surprise, but gray. His gaze was intense, but I sensed no malice.

"What?" I asked. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Paul took a step closer so we only had a half a foot of space between us. He took my hands in his hot ones and leaned in slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, watching my reaction.

My breath hitched in my throat and I could feel my heart hammering in my ears, my cheeks warm. "You wouldn't dare." I said quietly, unable to summon the volume I had intended. His lips, usually chapped, were soft looking. He must have invested in lip balm to keep them from splitting.

"Maybe I would," he said softly, now close enough for me to feel his breath on my face. The air between us was warmed by his body heat.

"I don't think so." I said, lifting my gaze to his eyes. Now that I was close to his face, I could see flecks of silver dancing around his pupils.

"Are you sure?" he breathed onto my lips, a spark glowing in his eyes. My pulse was beating against my skin and I wondered if he was testing me.

"You wouldn't." I repeat in a whisper, positive that Paul was only messing with me. He wouldn't actually-

"I would." And then he kissed me.

It was a so gentle that, for a second, I believed that he loved me from the depths of his soul. My lips parted and I closed my eyes.

But then I remembered that this man who had his lips on mine so gently, and held my hands so carefully, was _Paul_. And as stupid as it was, it hurt. Having him kiss me shouldn't have made my heart ache, but it did. I wanted a _real_ kiss -not this mockery of the lovely gesture.

Anger boiled under my skin, my very blood wild with rage that Paul was kissing me to make me vulnerable to humiliation (this was Paul after all; it was the only reason he would ever kiss me). Refusing to let him get away with this, I decided that I was going to turn the tables. I pressed my lips harder to his while slipping my hands out of his tender grasp so I could wrap my arms around his neck.

Paul's muscles tensed, as I knew they would. He didn't want to make-out with me (kissing me was bad enough) but he could endure a second or two of lip contact if it got me screaming at him in fury. Paul was not going to win this battle; I would make sure of that!

My bravado quickly shattered.

Paul had turned the tables on me, by putting his arms around my waist. He pulled me closer and started kissing me with more force. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was helpless. He was bigger and stronger. More powerful. God, he wasn't going to…was he?

Despite the heat, goosebumps appeared on my skin and a shiver went down my spine. I tried to keep my fear from choking me, telling myself that I could get out of this as long as I kept a straight head. Don't let him know that you're scared. Don't give him that power.

I pulled away from his lips, sucking in the oxygen that I had forgotten was mandatory for lungs. Paul seemed to be an exception to that rule because instead of taking a breather, he decided that kissing my cheeks and jaw softly was more important. As I breathed and he gave me butterfly kisses, I tried to pull some words together.

"So, which one of us is going to press charges for sexual harassment?" I asked, spitting out the first thing that came into my mind. Which was dumb, really, because it sounded more like flirting than telling him to get his damn hands off.

Paul chuckled. It was a soft hum against my cheek and a gentle shudder of ribs against mine. He removed his lips from my skin and said into my ear, "It's not sexual harassment if the victim is willing."

"And you're willing?!" I asked in disbelief, without thinking my words through.

Paul's arms loosened around my waist and he pulled away slightly so he could look at my expression. His head was slightly cocked to the side and he had an eyebrow raised. "You sound surprised."

"Um…"

His eyebrows furrowed and his moonstone eyes narrowed in an analyzing manner. I looked away, gazing at the kitchen counter. "You…Why did you _think_ I kissed you?"

To hurt me. I said nothing. I was trying to wrap my head around the possibility that Paul had kissed me out of more affectionate reasons.

He must have heard the thought in my silence because he stepped away from me, removing my arms from his neck. I shivered at the loss of heat, and couldn't help but dread what he was going to say next.

**--**

**I ended there because I might actually put this bonus chapter in **_**Color and All **_**and I didn't want to spoil any of my planned plot twists. Anyhoo, feel free to message me about any of the changes if you have any questions or opinions. **


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